


Cracked Actor

by der_tanzer



Series: Between Carson and King Harbor [3]
Category: Emergency!, Riptide (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-25
Updated: 2011-05-25
Packaged: 2017-10-19 18:45:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Johnny's injured on the job, Murray gets a chance to see what a great actor he really is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cracked Actor

**Author's Note:**

> Title borrowed from David Bowie.  
> 

They went into the smoke together, as always. Shoulder to shoulder in the hazy darkness, blind after the bright sunlight outside. The crackle of fire was nearby, though they couldn’t see it or pinpoint the direction. But it didn’t really matter. Someone else would locate and deal with the flames. That wasn’t what they were here for.

“Which way?” Roy called over the low roar of old wood being consumed.

Johnny answered by tugging his sleeve as he turned to his right. For just a second his flashlight had cut through the dense smoke, revealing a polished banister. Upstairs. The woman who’d come running out the front door when they rolled up had said that her husband was sleeping upstairs. She’d tried to get to him but the smoke had triggered her asthma and she was lucky to get out herself.

Roy took the lead on the narrow staircase and they separated at the top, both sticking to the right side of the hall, opening doors and searching each room. It was Johnny who found the man, stretched out on his bedroom floor where he had fallen trying to escape. He was coughing weakly and didn’t open his eyes as Johnny knelt and turned him onto his back.

“Hey, Roy,” he shouted, the sound muffled by his mask. He took it off and shouted again. The man on the floor gave another weak cough, and he focused his attention there. Roy would find them.

Johnny put his mask over the man’s face, lifting his head to pull the straps down securely. Almost at once, the man began to struggle, revived by the oxygen and terrified to find himself in a fire.

“You’re all right,” Johnny said sternly, trying to restrain him. “Just hang on, sir. We’re gonna get you out of here.”

Roy came stumbling out of the smoke, following their voices and Johnny’s low cough.

“Help me get him up, Roy. I think he’s okay now that he’s got some air.” Johnny rose into a crouch and Roy muscled the man across his shoulder for him. He straightened up, staggering a little under the weight but prepared to bear it. Roy picked up Johnny’s helmet and put it on him before leading the way back down the hall.

By the time they got to the top of the stairs two things had changed. Johnny’s cough had grown continuous and there was no longer any doubt where the fire was. It blazed up alongside the banister and glowed under the closed door nearest the landing. It was right underneath them.

“Hurry up!” Roy shouted, feeling the wall beside them for heat. It was hot, even through his gloves. He couldn’t see Johnny through the smoke and only the hacking cough and the hand on his shoulder told him he wasn’t alone.

Halfway down the stairs, the hand fell away but the cough went on. Roy spun around, feeling blindly for his partner, and found the man he’d been carrying instead. Johnny and the civilian were both struggling weakly, all sense of cooperation gone. Moving fast, Roy stripped off the mask that tethered the patient to his fallen rescuer and hoisted him over his own shoulder.

“Johnny, can you hear me? I’ll be back. Hear me? I’m coming back.” With that, he turned and hustled down the stairs. No one would question his decision to save the civilian when his partner was down. It wasn’t a decision at all. Johnny still had his tank, his turnout, and most of all, his training. He had chances on his own that this soft civilian did not. But the biggest factor in his heartlessly prompt action was the knowledge that the faster he got the civilian out, the sooner he could come back.

He staggered out the front door as the truckmen headed in with the hoses. Captain Stanley met him at the edge of the porch to take the civilian from him.

“Where’s Gage?”

“I lost him. He gave up his air and the smoke got him. Get another squad for the patient. I’m going back in.”

“You got it.” Captain Stanley helped the civilian over to the squad and laid him down. When he looked up again, Roy was gone. He grabbed his radio and called for a second engine company. They didn’t just need more paramedics, they were going to need help with the fire, too.

Johnny was still on the stairs, no longer coughing. Roy groped the still form blindly, trying to get a sense of where they stood. He found that Johnny hadn’t gotten his mask back on and that caused Roy’s one and only twinge of guilt. He could have at least put it on him before he left. But his training was too thorough to allow him to do anything else when he had a patient on his hands. He put the mask on Johnny now and hauled him up over his shoulder. Lopez and Kelly had beaten the flames back from the staircase, at least, and the extraction was relatively safe.

It wasn’t until he had his best friend outside, lying on the ground beside the somewhat alert and curious patient, that he realized his small effort had been useless. Johnny wasn’t breathing. When Roy pulled the mask off, his lips and eyelids were already faintly blue. He opened Johnny’s coat swiftly, grabbed a stethoscope from the box the captain put beside them, and located his heartbeat.

“Cap, where’s that other squad?”

“Two minutes out. Can I help?”

“Get on the biophone. Tell them we have two patients, one short of breath but stable, one cyanotic, no respiration, heart rate about ten.” He spoke rapidly, not looking up as he positioned Johnny’s head, then bent to begin mouth to mouth. The captain’s voice was a faraway hum, small and unimportant. All of Roy’s attention was focused on his partner, one hand against his throat to keep track of his pulse, the other pinching his nose as he breathed for him, praying for a response.

The second team was just rolling up when Johnny suddenly arched his back and drew a desperate breath. Roy sat up and put the stethoscope back on, listening to the rasp in Johnny’s lungs as he gasped and coughed.

“Hey, calm down,” Roy said gently, removing the stethoscope and taking the O2 bottle that Cap brought him. He covered Johnny’s nose and mouth with the mask and held it there while he adjusted the airflow. “Just breathe normally, John. You want to sit up?”

He nodded, already struggling to push himself up on his hands. Roy knelt behind him and lifted Johnny’s upper body onto his lap. His breathing eased slightly but Roy went ahead and strapped the mask on while Cap updated his status with the hospital. Johnny went on coughing but he didn’t resist the arms that held him. One of the advantages of his training was that he trusted his partner and knew when he was being treated properly. It was good to lie still and breathe clean oxygen, recovering his strength while someone else looked after the patient he’d nearly sacrificed his life for.

“Is the guy okay?” he asked hoarsely, his voice dissolving into a ragged cough.

“He’s fine. Eighteen’s got him. You just be quiet and breathe, okay?”

Johnny started to speak again but the coughing overcame him and he settled for a nod. When the ambulances came, Roy went with him while one of the paramedics from Eighteen took their rescue. Chet Kelly followed with the squad, leaving Eighteen to help with the clean-up, too.

***

A serious car wreck had the hospital jumping and after Dr. Brackett set up Johnny’s nebulizer treatment, Roy was left to monitor him. He radioed in that he was available from Rampart and hoped he wouldn’t be called out right away. He sat by his partner’s side, smiling encouragingly whenever Johnny looked at him. After a while, Johnny smiled back.

“You feeling better?” Roy asked. He nodded, smiling again, but it was clearly tiring. “Want me to call Murray for you? Doc says you’re going to be here overnight.”

Johnny pulled the mask away from his face and coughed lightly.

“Better not. It’ll scare him if you do it. I’ll call him later, when I sound better.”

“It’s up to you, but if he hears it from someone else first…”

“It wasn’t a big enough fire to make the news. Besides, no one else will know to tell him. It’ll be okay.”

“It’s up to you. Just put your mask back on.”

Johnny nodded again and closed his eyes. The smoke and oxygen deprivation had given him an exhausting headache. He was glad that Roy could sit beside him without feeling the need to talk. They’d been here so many times before, in this situation, in this room, but he’d never felt closer to his friend. The wall of secrets was gone and there was no guilt weighing him down. It was even a little bit nice to think that he had a lover who would worry about him, although he intended to do everything possible to keep that from happening.

Whenever he opened his eyes Roy was there, smiling and sometimes saying hi, which made Johnny think that his eyes must have been closed for a while. He always smiled back through the nebulizer mask, not knowing if Roy could see, and then drifted off again. Once when he looked around, there were people in the room. Dixie, who talked to him in her old teasing way as she added something to his IV, and a young man in white who said something to Roy about moving. Johnny wanted to protest, tell the young man that Roy could stay, and then realized that they were moving him. Roy took his shoulders and the young man took his legs, lifting him efficiently out of his bed and onto a gurney. Johnny knew this part, too. He was leaving the ER for another room. Recovery, maybe. Or a room of his own. That was more likely.

He hoped Roy would stay with him there, too. And not just for his own sake. He hated to think of his partner out on runs with someone else. Some other paramedic who might not put him first. Who might let Roy give up his air or stay behind. Johnny didn’t want him back at work until he could be there to take those jobs. He was sure he could do anything, survive anything, as he had done today, but maybe Roy couldn’t. It was too big a chance to take.  
Lights and ceiling tiles blurred overhead and they were in the elevator for a bit. Johnny didn’t bother keeping track of time, so long as he could see Roy nearby. He managed to stay awake until Roy and the orderly put him in his new bed. It was impossible not to settle into the mattress—not a great one, but still a vast improvement over the thin pad on the gurney—with a contented sigh, and when Roy remembered to bring him the extra blanket, his comfort was nearly complete. There was only one thing missing. As Roy tucked the blanket around him, Johnny caught his wrist.

“Can you stay a while?” he asked, the words too muffled to be understood by anyone other than the man who had been listening to him for fifteen years.

“Sure. The shift changed a few minutes ago, anyway. I’ll just call Joanne and tell her what’s going on.”

Johnny smiled and closed his eyes, floating on the sound of his friend’s voice. Dixie must have given him a sedative, he decided, because the smoke hadn’t been this good.

“Hi, Jo,” he heard Roy say. “No, I’m at the hospital. I’m okay, honey, don’t worry. Johnny just took a little smoke this morning and he has to spend the night. He wants me to stay with him for a while. I’m sure I’ll be home for dinner. No, he wants to do that himself. No sense in making the guy worry.”

Johnny frowned to himself at that, but it wasn’t Roy’s fault. Any time they talked to, or about, Murray when it might be overheard, it had to be in very general terms, or possibly in code. Had someone been listening, Roy could have said he was talking about a neighbor, or even a firefighter whose shift Johnny was picking up. In other words, someone who didn’t really matter. When the truth was, it was someone who mattered more than anyone else in the world, except possibly Roy himself.

For the first time, Johnny thought it might be nice to have Murray sitting beside him.

***

When Johnny woke for real, it was almost five and Roy was still there, reading a magazine with his feet up on the bed. The nebulizer mask was gone and Johnny thought maybe he could talk now. He cleared his throat experimentally and Roy looked up.

“There you are. Feeling any better?”

“Yeah, I think so.” His voice was rough, grating on his throat and in his ears. He reached for the button to raise the head of the bed and asked for a cup of water. “What time is it?”

“Ten to five,” Roy said, handing him the half-full cup. “I was gonna call Murray if you didn’t wake up soon. Isn’t he expecting you?”

“In about an hour.” Johnny drank the water, waited a moment to see how it would settle, then asked for more. After that was gone, he felt a little more like himself. “Thanks. For staying, I mean. I don’t really remember what happened after I picked that guy up in his bedroom. That part _did_ happen, right?”

“Yeah, that happened. You gave him your air and then you went down on the stairs. I don’t know why, though. I didn’t see.”

“Yeah, that’s right. The guy started fighting. He kicked me in the knee. I was breathing so hard trying to hold onto him, the smoke went straight to my head. Hey, is he all right?”

“He’s fine. They’ve already released him. Anyway, I carried him out, and when I went back for you, you weren’t breathing. Why didn’t you put your mask on, Johnny?”

“I couldn’t find it. Like I said, I took a lot of smoke fighting that guy. I remember now trying to follow the hose but I just didn’t make it. So you saved my life again, huh? How many does this make now?”

“Fourteen or fifteen, depending on if you count me hauling you back onto the scaffold after you passed out from the monkey fever.”

“That’s a half and you know it. But thanks anyway. For today, I mean.” He grinned brightly, and Roy’s snorting laugh only increased his amusement. “But do me a favor, will you? Don’t tell Murray about the whole not breathing thing. He’d probably think it was serious. Besides,” he added with a wink, “he thinks he should be the only guy who gets to kiss me.”

“You’re impossible,” Roy said, taking his cup away.

“Hey, I almost died today. I’m allowed. But hand me the phone, will you?” Roy set it on the bed next to Johnny’s hip and he dialed from memory.

“Hi, Brown Eyes,” he said, his voice all soothing charm only slightly roughened by the smoke. “I’m sorry, I’m not gonna be able to make it for dinner. No, no, it’s nothing. Just a little smoke inhalation. Not a big deal at all, but the doc’s making me spend the night in the hospital. You know how these guys are, always worrying about getting sued. No, it’s no big deal, baby. All right, if you really want to, I guess I can’t stop you. Non-family visiting hours are six to nine. Just don’t bring me flowers or everyone will get suspicious.” He was laughing, visibly struggling not to cough, and Roy admired the effort he put into convincing his lover that the results of his having been near death was more a matter of paperwork than anything else.

This wasn’t the Johnny Gage he’d come to know and roll his eyes at over the last decade and a half. _That_ Johnny would do anything for attention, and had often put on shows of tremendous pain over minor injuries just so he could follow it with a show of great endurance, especially if a woman was watching. Roy had long wondered if he would actually put a true romantic partner through that and never settled on an answer. Until now.

“No, it’s not serious, I promise you. I’ll check out in the morning and we’ll have dinner tomorrow. In the meantime, you come see for yourself. Sure, I understand. I know, baby. I love you, too.” He hung up the phone and sat up, covering his mouth with both hands and coughing furiously. When he lay back again, Roy was handing him another cup of water. He drank it down fast and tried to breathe shallowly to reduce the irritation.

“That was nicely done,” Roy said, putting the phone back on the table. “Are you ever gonna tell him what really happened?”

“I did. Come on, did I lie?”

“No, not really. Just the _no big deal, nothing serious_ part. Other than that, you were totally honest.”

“It isn’t a big deal. Roy, I wasn’t even scared. I knew you were coming back. I knew I’d end up here, but it’s just some albuterol and a night’s sleep. The worst part is the dessert I won’t be getting tonight,” he added with another wink.

“You’re even more impossible than I thought.”

“That’s me,” he said with great satisfaction. “Always exceeding expectations.” Then his grin faltered and he gave a little cough. “Seriously, though—do you think I can pull it off? Do I look okay, or will he be able to tell?”

“We better wash your face. And—uh—maybe the nurses can come up with a comb. There’s not much we can do about the rest.”

“Ha-ha. Now how can I take my condition seriously when you’re here making jokes?”

“You think I was joking?” Roy went into the bathroom to look for a washcloth and stayed there a moment, leaning on the sink and trying to get a handle on his own emotions. He’d been through the wringer today while Johnny was either unconscious or asleep, and it was a little bit difficult to adjust to the sight of him wide awake and acting like himself. There had been a minute this morning when he was certain his partner was dead, that this time he wouldn’t be able to bring him back, and he’d gone about the attempt with cold dread in his heart. That struggling civilian on the staircase could have been the end of the finest friendship he would ever have, and the sudden realization that he’d have had to follow it up by telling Murray turned him cold all over again. But Johnny was okay with it, he told himself sternly, so he should be, too. It turned out fine. That was what mattered.

Roy found a washcloth, filled the plastic basin with warm water, and went out bravely. But what he found gave him pause. Johnny was lying back on his pillow, eyes closed, breath hitching in his chest. He didn’t seem to be aware of Roy coming up beside him and putting down the basin.

“Hey, Johnny, it’s okay,” he said quietly. “You know it’s okay now.”

“Yeah, I know. Just—maybe I was a little bit scared.”

“Sure, a little bit. Totally understandable.” Roy dipped the cloth in the water, wrung it out, and tenderly wiped around his eyes. Johnny took a shuddering breath and tried to smile.

“You'd keep an eye on Murray for me, wouldn’t you? Make sure he’s okay?”

“Sure I would. He’s got his friends, too. He’d be okay.”

“I know, I know. And we’ve only known each other for, what five months? He’d get over it. But I don’t want his first boyfriend after the one who died to, you know, die.”

“Things are pretty serious, huh?” Johnny almost never mentioned the young man with whom he spent so much of his free time, and had never gotten around to bringing him over to meet the family, but Roy knew it must be going well. If it wasn’t, Johnny would have been asking advice, or at least complaining.

“Yeah, I think so. You know I’ve never been in love before, but I think—I think I could be with him for a long time.”

Roy knew that Johnny couldn’t say forever, even if he was thinking it, but for his friend to say even that much was big. He dipped the cloth in the basin again and went on bathing Johnny’s face, washing away the day’s soot and sweat.

“That’s good. I’m really happy for you, John.”

“Thanks. But remember what I said. If he brings this up, it was totally routine. You can go as far as labored breathing, but that’s it.”

“You got it.” Roy very carefully unwound his oxygen tubing and ran the cloth over his cheeks. Johnny’s breathing roughened subtly, and Roy was quick to replace it. He was clean enough.

Roy took the water away and then sat down beside him again, wondering what would happen when Murray showed up. They’d done a good job so far of limiting their relationship to Murray’s home, and sometimes Johnny’s. Nowhere that his friends would be likely to spot them together. This would be their first time risking exposure in Johnny’s world. He had friends on the staff here, and fellow firefighters who had been told he wasn’t up to visitors in the afternoon, but who might drop by in the evening. Surely someone would come in and see them together. The question was how subtly they could handle it.

They watched TV together until Murray walked in, right on the dot of six. He looked shy and frightened, a pale, trembly man in jeans and a King Harbor PD t-shirt. Roy said hi first, bringing a sudden hectic flush to Murray’s cheeks. He realized then that they probably couldn’t have any kind of conversation in front of him and excused himself in a way that was perfectly obvious to everyone, saying Joanne was waiting dinner.

“Thanks for hanging around,” Johnny said cheerfully, suppressing a cough. “Tell Jo and the kids I appreciate their sacrifice.”

“Will do. You have a good night, kids. Give me a call if you need anything.”

Johnny promised he would, and Murray offered a hesitant goodnight. He waited until Roy was gone before sitting on the edge of the bed and greeting his lover with a proper kiss. Johnny had meant to be brave, make a few jokes, and then get Murray talking about his day. Instead, he clutched the bony frame in his arms as if it were a life preserver in a stormy sea, telling himself the burn in his eyes was smoke related and knowing it was a lie. He squeezed until Murray, unable to breathe, broke the kiss and tried to pull away. Johnny couldn’t let him go yet, but he did loosen his hold and allow him to draw a deep breath.

“You’re okay, aren’t you?” Murray asked, still trying to get enough distance between them to see him clearly. “What happened? Why didn’t you call me sooner? _Are_ you okay?”

“I’m fine, baby. Just fine,” he said, but his voice was rough and choked. Murray kissed him again and this time Johnny let him sit up.

“What happened? And why didn’t you call before? Even if I couldn’t come visit, I’d have wanted to know. What were you thinking?” His fear and relief were giving way to indignation and Johnny thought fast to try to head it off.

“Calm down, okay? Get me a drink of water and I’ll tell you about it.”

Murray’s expression said he’d better tell it fast and well, but he got up and poured the water. He sat back down on the bed facing his lover, his bony knee against Johnny’s hip, and watched him drink.

“Thanks. Now, first off, it’s not a big deal. Roy and I rescued a smoke inhalation victim from a house fire. I was carrying the guy out, and he was having trouble breathing so I gave him my mask. He started panicking on the stairs, and he knocked me down. It slowed us down getting out and I didn’t have my air for a few minutes. That’s all. It’s the kind of thing that happens all the time.” He spoke glibly, grinning in that way that always made Murray believe him. Or want to believe him, at least. This time there seemed to be something missing.

“So why didn’t you want me to know?” Murray asked, getting right to the point.

“I guess because it doesn’t happen to you all the time,” he said, his glib smile suddenly gone. He fiddled with the plastic cup, unable to meet those pleading eyes. “The truth is, I couldn’t call. I was sedated and receiving respiratory therapy most of the day. That’s pretty standard, too. Roy was here the whole time, but I asked him not to tell you because I thought you’d be scared. Getting a phone call like that from my partner in the middle of a shift, that would have been bad, right?” He glanced up then, his own eyes pleading, and Murray took away the cup to hold his hand.

“Yes, I would have been scared. But—”

“And you wouldn’t have been able to see me when you _did_ know. How would that have felt, Murray? What would you have done all day, except worry and maybe come over here and do something stupid? Baby, I had to tell you myself. It was the only way you wouldn’t have freaked out. Isn’t it?”

“Yes, but—”

“But nothing. Look, Murray, the logic is real simple. You had to hear it from me, I couldn’t talk, and you couldn’t have been with me even if you knew. Now, what am I missing?”

“I love you,” Murray said simply. “I love you, and it breaks my heart to think that you were here all day and I didn’t know. I don’t care about your logic, Johnny Gage. That’s just not right.”

“Yeah, I kinda pulled a fast one on you, didn’t I? Truth is, I always knew it’d go down like this the first time.” He covered his mouth with his free hand and coughed weakly. “Can I have some more water?” Murray poured it silently and gave him time to drink. “Thanks. You look mad. Are you mad, baby?”

“Not yet. I’m waiting for you to finish,” he said coldly, patiently. “Tell me why you thought you needed to ‘pull a fast one’ on me.”

Johnny put the cup aside and gripped his hand. This time Murray didn’t squeeze back.

“I thought of the logic right after we met. I knew something would happen to me eventually, and I knew, if it wasn’t very serious, that I’d do it like this. So you could hear from me that it wasn’t that bad. I had it planned, and I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to live every day thinking that _not_ getting a call was just as bad as getting one.”

“Like I will now.”

“I put it off as long as I could. And next time Roy will call you right away, like you think he should have done today. It won’t be so bad then because we’ve done it once. You know I’ll be okay until you get here, and you’ll know that just because I’m in the hospital, that doesn’t mean anything’s really wrong.”

“But something _is_ wrong. Johnny, I’m not stupid. I know you wouldn’t be here all day and all night, getting lung therapy and trying not to cough, if you weren’t in trouble. Were you even breathing when they pulled you out of there? How close was it, really?”

“No closer than it’s been a hundred times,” he said, exaggerating only a little.

“What am I going to do with you?” Murray asked mournfully.

“I don’t know, Brown Eyes. Put up with me, I guess. If you can, that is.” He squeezed Murray’s hand again, smiling hopefully. “Do you think you can?”

Murray answered by leaning over him, bracing one hand on the pillow next to Johnny’s head, and kissing him slow and sweet. It went on until Johnny needed to cough, though he resisted the urge as long as possible. Murray felt his body vibrating, his back arching as he fought it, and straightened up to let him cough just as the door swung open.

“Hey, Johnny. How’re doing?” asked a man that Murray vaguely recognized. He was short and tended toward stocky, with curly hair and a thick mustache. Just behind him was a taller man, leaner and older, with shrewd eyes. Murray blushed and moved as nonchalantly as he could to the chair that Roy had vacated. Johnny was keeping up a cheery grin, preparing to bluff his way through.

“Hey, Chet. Captain. You guys remember Doctor Bozinsky, right? From the earthquake?”

“Yeah, hi,” said the taller man, coming forward to shake Murray’s hand. “How’re you doing, Doctor? I’m Hank Stanley. We never met, but I was kind of running the show back there.”

“Oh, yes. My friends told me about you. They said you were really nice to them. I wanted to thank you for that.”

“No problem. So you and Johnny kept in touch? That’s good.”

“Yes, we—we get together sometimes. Have a couple beers, talk about our jobs.”

“That’s nice,” the man with the mustache interrupted. “But don’t I get an introduction? I did help carry you out of there, you know. At great personal risk, I might add.”

“Of course,” Johnny said with a grin and a long-suffering sigh. “Murray, this is Chet Kelly. Chet, say hello to Doctor Bozinsky.”

He angled himself between Murray and the bed and shook his hand.

“I was surprised when he turned around,” Chet said to Johnny, over his shoulder. “I thought at first you’d finally got yourself a girlfriend to come and worry over you.”

“Funny,” Johnny scoffed. “Matter of fact, I still have stuff in my eyes from the fire. He was just taking a look at it before he called the nurse.”

“Something in your eye?” Chet laughed and the captain joined in. “That’s what you said last summer at the fireman’s picnic when Brian O’Malley caught you kissing his sister.”

“You gotta admit,” Stanley said with a grin, “it’s a lot more believable this time.”

“I’d hope so,” Johnny said indignantly. Then his expression softened. “Cathy O’Malley. I wonder whatever happened to her.”

“She’s dating Kurt Jenkins on C shift. I hear they might be getting married,” the captain said.

“That figures,” Chet laughed. “Gage dates a woman for five minutes and she can’t wait to marry someone else.”

“Now that’s not fair,” Johnny said, his indignation rising. His voice cracked and he began to cough again, still protesting. Murray slid his chair back out of the way and Chet got him a cup of water. Johnny drank it and the argument went on, the same one they’d been having for years.

Murray sat quietly, a vague smile on his face, watching his lover laugh and cough as he defended his ability to attract and keep a woman. It wasn’t a position he had ever been in before and nothing in his life had prepared him for it. Even watching Nick and Cody flirt with pretty girls was no help, as they had always been in it together. So he waited a few minutes and then stood up.

“I should get going,” he said casually. “I’m glad you’re okay, Johnny. Feel better soon.”

For a split second Johnny looked surprised, even a little confused, and then he grinned brightly.

“I’m sure I will. Thanks for stopping by, Murray. I really appreciate it.”

Murray gave him a nod that could have meant anything and said goodbye to the other men. They said goodbye and forgot him as soon as he was gone.

***

Nick and Cody were eating dinner in the salon when Murray walked in just after seven. They hadn’t expected him to be home for hours—not when he could stay at the hospital until nine, and was remarkably skilled at getting his way when he wanted to bend the rules. It put something of a damper on their romantic evening, but not as much as his sorrowful expression. Nick rolled his eyes— _here we go again_ —and Cody answered with an impatient twitch of the head— _stop thinking about getting laid for two minutes_ —before turning to their friend.

“What’re you doing home so early, Boz? Is Johnny okay?”

“You didn’t have a fight, did you?” Nick asked and got another impatient twitch.

“Sort of, but we made up already. And he’s fine, I think. But some of his friends came in, the captain and one of the other guys, and he had to pretend I was just, you know, that guy from an old rescue, repaying the favor. They started teasing him about not having a girlfriend and he was defending himself…” Murray trailed off with a sigh and sat down on the bench across the salon. Cody got up and went over to him, crouching by his knee. He always did that, looking up at Murray and letting him feel bigger. Nick’s form of sympathy was different—sitting beside him, towering over him, making him feel safe, which was good, but not without reminding him that he was also small.

“What happened?” Cody asked, squeezing his knee lightly. “Surely you’re not upset because he didn’t admit you’re together?”

“No, of course not. I mean, not really. It’s just that—you weren’t there.” He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I’ve never seen him with his friends before. He—he was so good at pretending. It was so _natural_. They were laughing and he was talking about this girl he used to like, or pretended to like—he’s so good at it, I couldn’t even tell the difference—and it was like I wasn’t even there. The firemen didn’t know I was anybody important, and by the time I left, I really—I don’t know, either.”

“Murray, buddy, of course you are. That guy’s crazy about you,” Cody said patiently.

“Is he?” Murray sighed, putting his glasses back on. “Because it’s like he’s two different men, the one I love and the one they work with, and I don’t know which one is real and which is the act.”

“Did you ever think,” Nick said suddenly, “that if a guy like him was going to fake something, he wouldn’t pick being gay?”

Murray’s head came up and he stared at his friend for long seconds. Then Nick went on.

“Think about it a minute. What’s his motive to pretend to love you? Why would he fake being gay in secret? Sure he’s a good actor, he’s had to do it all his life. But the women are the act and you know it. They’re the public face, and sure, it hurts your feelings, but he doesn’t have a choice, right? You get to choose if you can stand it or not, but he doesn’t get to choose whether or not to lie.”

“He’s right,” Cody said, stepping in before Murray could think about it too much and maybe over-think it. “Remember how you went through all this with Ted in the beginning? How he had to pretend not to like you, and you had to date girls?”

“But _he_ didn’t,” Murray sighed.

“No, he didn’t. He was old and no one liked him, so that was easy. Johnny’s, what, forty?”

“Forty-two.”

“And he looks thirty-five. He’s handsome and has a sexy job with a sexy uniform where he runs around saving lives all day. He’s a visible hero with a great personality and people are going to have their own expectations as to how he should act. So he has to pretend, and that sucks for you, but you have to know what the truth is. In your heart, you _know_.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he said vaguely.

“You guess?” Nick snorted. “Come on, Murray, don’t be a dope. Why don’t you have dinner with us and watch some TV? _Suddenly, Last Summer_ is on tonight.”

“Um, thanks, guys. I think I just want to go lie down. Maybe do some reading. I—I’ll see you in the morning.”

They tried to protest but he met their words with a trembling smile that wanted to be confident and they let him go rather than risk breaking him. The romantic mood was gone, but they’d get it back. They had no intention of watching _Suddenly, Last Summer_.

Down in his cabin, Murray lay on his cot and stared at the overhead, not reading. He knew his friends were right, but the knowledge came from his head, not his heart. His heart was sore and frightened. Johnny must love him, or at least care very much, or they wouldn’t have had the summer that they did. It was almost Thanksgiving and Johnny had been the only man on his mind since June. So far as he could tell, he was the only person Johnny was interested in, too, and that comforted him somewhat. But the memory of him and Chet laughing about Cathy O’Malley was fresher, even more recent than Johnny’s sweet kiss and clinging, crushing embrace. He felt like all of those things were true, but he couldn’t decide which was the greater truth, the kisses or the jokes.

He was still pondering that when the phone rang a half hour later. Nick and Cody had long since carried their dishes down to the galley and gone to bed. The soft sounds of their moans told him they were busy and not likely to answer it, so he rolled over and snagged the cordless off the edge of his desk. He said hello and nearly wept at the sound of Johnny’s voice.

“Hi, Brown Eyes. Are you mad at me?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Sure you are. Baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that happened. I wanted you to stay, you know. You could have hung around until they left.”

“No, I really couldn’t. I’m supposed to be someone you barely know, right? I mean, if we were close friends, you'd have at least mentioned me to them and they wouldn’t have been so surprised.”

“You _are_ mad, aren’t you?” he said and Murray could hear the crooked grin in his voice.

“No, I’m not mad. I’m really not. I’m just—I’m scared. Seeing that other part of your life, how easily you become a stranger, it scares me a little.”

“Is that what you saw? A stranger?”

“Sort of. It was like when we first met, when you were on the job and we really _were_ strangers. You were professional and sort of distant and—and I felt you caring about me, but that’s your job. You care for a living. Tonight felt like that, too. They were your friends and I was someone you once took care of on the job, and maybe laughed about later.”

“I didn’t,” Johnny said quietly. “I’ve laughed with the guys about patients before, people who do or say crazy things while we’re trying to help them, but I swear I never did that to you and no one else did, either. They don’t know the truth, but they know that whole rescue operation is off-limits. Except for the assholes that ran that hotel and didn’t think they needed to retrofit it. We bitched about them for a week.”

“Really? You never talked about me?”

“Really. I got hit up for a lot of interviews, people wanting to know what you said or how you reacted, and I tried real hard not to talk to them, either. You're not just a secret because I’m afraid, you know. You’re also _my_ secret, and I don’t want to share. I hardly ever even talk about you with Roy and he’s my best friend. I like that you aren’t just another topic of firehouse gossip.”

“Okay, that’s sweet,” Murray conceded. “And I do love you, you know. I just feel out of place in that other part of your life. You really are two people and one of them can’t have anything to do with me.”

“That’s not how I feel, though. I know I have to keep work separate, and the way I act with patients is different from how I am with friends, but that’s normal. We have to be in charge at work, because if we don’t dominate people’s fears and inspire confidence, they won’t let us help them. And you can’t blame me for not treating you like that all the time, right? You don’t want to be dominated and talked down to.”

“Well, no, I wouldn’t like that. It’s just that—I mean—you’re not going to retire for a long time, are you?”

“Barring a disabling injury or a lotto strike? I’d say in about twenty-five years.”

“That’s a long time to pretend, isn’t it?” he asked softly.

“Yeah, it is. I guess I couldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to stick around that long, but I’d appreciate it if you at least stand by me until I get out of the hospital.”

“Oh. Oh, Johnny, no. Of course I won’t leave you. I just—I wish we were together right now. All the secrets and job stress don’t matter as much when we’re together. That makes me think it’s worth it.”

“Good. I’ll sleep a lot better tonight knowing you still like me,” he said, and Murray could hear the return of the crooked grin. “But I still wish you were here.”

“Me too. I’d have stayed if I thought it wouldn’t look suspicious. I—I really am crazy about you, you know.”

“Yeah, I know, baby. I’m crazy about you, too.”

“So—what are we going to do?”

“Do? Well, Roy’s giving me a ride home tomorrow and I don’t have to be back at work until the day after, so we could get in some quality time if you want. No one’s going to show up and bother us there.”

“That’s a good start. I guess we can’t really make long-term plans, can we?”

“Not really. But I bet I can get you invited to Roy’s next barbecue, if you think you’re ready. We’re kind of running out of time on that, you know. Even in SoCal, barbecue season has to end.”

“Sure. If it’s just the family, I’ll be there. And I’ll be at your apartment tomorrow when you get home.”

“Good deal. I might not sleep that well tonight after all.” He laughed a little, low and suggestive, and then had to smother a cough.

“You’re talking too much,” Murray said reprovingly. “And you probably won’t be up to a lot of activity tomorrow, either. But I don’t mind,” he added quickly.

“Sure you don’t. Even over the phone, I can see right through you.” He laughed and then coughed again, trying to clear a throat that sounded as dry as the desert.

“We can set up a humidifier and I’ll be on top. But for tonight, you should probably have a drink and go to sleep. You’ve been talking way too much.”

“You want me to hang up?”

“For your own good.” Murray was laughing now, the worst of his worry gone, a little bit drunk on the relief. “I’d keep you up all night if I could, but that cough breaks my heart. Tell me you love me and get some sleep, for me, and tomorrow you can have whatever you want.”

“All right, baby. If that’s what makes you happy. I love you, and I want you to bring me strawberry ice cream.”

“I love you, too,” Murray said softly and hung up the phone.

The problem wasn’t really solved, they still had another twenty-five years or so of secrets and deception ahead of them, but he was comforted for tonight.

In a hospital ten miles away, Johnny lay back in his bed, a lean man in a flimsy white gown, arms crossed comfortably behind his head, a satisfied smile on his face. He coughed every couple of minutes, but it didn’t worry him. It was getting better, despite the pain in his chest, and when the nurse came in with another albuterol nebulizer, he submitted meekly. Anything to get home.


End file.
